


Another Day (or 'the inner workings of Tim Downing's mind')

by PinguBoogaloo



Category: Colditz (1972)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash really, i hope there are still people in this fandom, tho it is pretty slashy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinguBoogaloo/pseuds/PinguBoogaloo
Summary: In which Tim dwells on his feelings for Simon.





	Another Day (or 'the inner workings of Tim Downing's mind')

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about writing something for Colditz for agesss and it's finally happened! Are people still out there in this fandom?
> 
> I'm a huge Simon fangirl and currently am shipping him pretty hard with Tim so ... this happened. This is my first fic so please be gentle! Let me know what you think tho, and if anyone wants more of this pairing, as sadly there's not much of it around.

 

 

It wasn't often that Tim Downing allowed himself to really contemplate his emotions. Dashed silly, these *feelings*. They got in the way of far more important things, like finishing up the next set of civvies, and beating the Poles at stoolball later that afternoon.

And yet, Tim found himself becoming increasingly self-reflective. There is something quite frightening, Tim had discovered, about realising that your affection for somebody ran far deeper than you had previously imagined. He had tried to repress it, to push it out of mind until it languished alongside other exiled subjects, like his fuzzy recollections of a cruel third form Latin master and his disastrous attempt at a career in finance before he joined the Guards. He tried to envisage digging a tunnel down beneath the castle, far below any of Ulmann's sensors, and imagined burying the uncomfortable thoughts there.

However, this was difficult to achieve when the source of this bourgeoning emotional wellspring spent the nights in a bunk across from him.

They were different in many ways, he and Simon, most chiefly in their class and upbringing. Despite this, their Colditz jounrey was remarkably similar. In their early days at the castle they had shared a passionate, almost reckless desire for escape. But both of them had mellowed over the years and become much wiser, experts in escapecraft rather than impulsive novices. Simon became a leader, and Tim his right-hand man, and it startled him to realise just how darn content he was in that position - how _comfortable_. They had matured into a rather effective team.

There had only ever been one slight wobble on his part. After Pat scored his home run, Tim had been determined to replace him as Escape Officer. As such he'd been livid when Simon was chosen over him, especially as he knew damn well how much Tim had wanted it. In response, he'd gone so far as to send Simon to Coventry - of course this only lasted about a day and a half. Simon had passed him on the steps up to the dorm and stumbled, unsteady on his damaged ankle, and Tim's body reacted automatically to catch him before he tumbled back down to the courtyard. There had been some awkward muttered apologies for the events of the previous few days and some pats on the back, and then their relationship had returned to normal.

This affection, much unlike anything he had felt for a chap before, startled and confused Tim. He delighted at their small moments of togetherness: pouring over maps while planning escapes, tossing a cricket ball about in the courtyard, how they would settle in a corner of the dorm on a rainy day and Simon would trounce him at chess over and over again. This closeness had intensified since Pat and Phil's escape and Simon's injury.

Tim realised that as soon as Simon had become ineligible for escape attempts, he had begun to count himself out of them too.

 _Enough._ Tim chastised himself before his thoughts became too dangerous. He had lounged about and indulged himself for far too long. There were caps to sew and papers to sign. And maybe, if Tim worked hard and finished up a some of Simon's work too, then maybe he could be convinced to take some hours off and watch the British team crush the Poles in the yard later. Tim felt the familiar, confusing mixture of warmth and nerves that nestled inside him when he thought too hard about just what Simon meant to him. He would try and bury it for another day.

 

 


End file.
